There were railway quiet zones that all trains passing through no longer had to blow their train horn at public crossings. It was an attempt to make the quality of life and living better.
Which was completely understandable.
Trains ran all day and night. They didn’t have set business hours. They would blow their horns all the fuckin’ time where I used to live, and eventually the city we’d been living in had filed a ruling that said that trains were to no longer do that.
I hadn’t realized how often those horns woke me up until they were no longer doing it.
“I can see how that would be frustrating,” the data center’s lawyer said. “Those horns are for a very good reason. It’s when a system starts to overheat.”
“Blah-blah-blah,” Constance muttered darkly. “Fuck their systems.”
My lips curled up at the edge.
Not quite a smile, but almost.
I agreed with her.
That would probably piss her off, too, though.
“I don’t honestly care if it overheats,” the man said to the lawyer.
“I think it’s time for a recess,” the judge said. “Take fifteen minutes.”
I stepped out of the row and headed for the door, heading to the bathroom to take a piss since it seemed like a good time.
I came out of the bathroom a few moments before Constance, and she came to the side of the vending machine I was standing at and stared longingly at the candy bars.
I hadn’t been intending to get one, but the look of longing on her face had me wanting to press a few of her buttons.
I hit the number for a Snickers, and it dropped to the bottom for me to pick up.
“Do you know that that Snickers bar has about seven teaspoons of sugar in it, and your recommended daily intake is only twelve?”
I ripped the wrapper open and took a bite.
She rolled her eyes and walked away.
What would she do if I told her that I was a doctor and knew exactly what I should and shouldn’t be putting in my body?
I hadn’t had a Snickers bar in years.
I did tend to eat pretty good. I ate my greens, and got all my veggies in. Most of the time I got all my fruit. Always got my protein in.
I knew that candy bars were ultra processed and bad for me.
But eating it was great in a few different ways. One, it was tasty. Two, it pissed her off. Three, I knew she wanted one.
I tossed the wrapper into the trash, caught a water that was set out for the jury, and retook my seat.
Most of everyone was back inside but Constance, so when she arrived, she had to walk past me.
When she did, I didn’t bother to move.
She glared at me angrily and stomped on my booted foot.
I didn’t feel a thing because I was wearing steel-toed boots.
Which she also found annoying.
